Plants left in my care meet a premature end. I sing to them, water them, give them plenty of light and love, and they never stick around for very long. My mother has the greenest thumb on the planet. She sticks a dead twig in the ground and the Garden of Eden emerges overnight. I didn’t get that gene.
But I love plants, and so I keep trying. I took myself over to the Plant Shed last weekend and picked up a few Impatiens. I came home tonight and found one of them limp and wilted. I just watered it yesterday! How could this be? I filled her up with water and pruned away the dead leaves in despair. And then something amazing happened. Within an hour, the plant perked right back up. The limp leaves suddenly found their life again. Maybe I’m not a bad gardener, just a bad pruner. Maybe I let the dead leaves stick around for too long, dragging the rest of the plant down with it.
I think this may be true in life, too. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve let dead-end everything hang around my door. Brian and I have been working on clearing it all out. My yoga teacher, Johanna, talks about this act as “letting go of what doesn’t serve.” Intellectually this makes sense. It takes times and guts to put into practice. It wasn’t until I saw this wilted little plant, flopped over like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree, that I finally understood this idea in my heart.
If we let the dead leaves hang on, they will suck the life out of the rest of the plant. When we prune away the dead leaves, the plant’s going to look a little odd, a little lopsided. But in time, it’s going to come around aga
in, with a little water and sunshine and room to breathe. If you’ve found this to be true in your life, or your garden, I’d love to hear how it worked for you.
Published by Christa Avampato
The short of it:
Writer. Health, education, and art advocate. Theater and film producer. Visual artist. Product geek. Proud alumnae of the University of Pennsylvania (BA) and the Darden School of Business at the University of Virginia (MBA). Inspired by ancient wisdom & modern tech. Proliferator of goodness. Opener of doors. Friend to animals. Fan of creative work in all its wondrous forms. I use my business skills to create passion projects that build a better world. I’ve been called the happiest New Yorker, and I try hard to live up to that title every day.
The long of it:
My career has stretched across Capitol Hill, Broadway theatre, education, nonprofit fundraising, health and wellness, and Fortune 500 companies in retail, media, entertainment, technology, and financial services. I’ve been a product developer and product manager, theater manager, strategic consultant, marketer, voice over artist, , teacher, and fundraiser. I use my business and storytelling to support and sustain passion projects that build a better world. In every experience, I’ve used my sense of and respect for elegant design to develop meaningful products, services, programs, and events.
While building a business career, I also built a strong portfolio as a journalist, novelist, freelance writer, interviewer, presenter, and public speaker. My writing has appeared in The Washington Post, The Huffington Post, PBS.org, Boston.com, Royal Media Partners publications, and The Motley Fool on a wide range of topics including business, technology, science, health, education, culture, and lifestyle. I have also been an invited speaker at SXSW, Teach for America, Avon headquarters, Games for Change, NYU, Columbia University, Hunter College, and the Alzheimer’s Foundation of America. The first book in my young adult book series, Emerson Page and Where the Light Enters, was acquired by a publisher and launched in November 2017. I’m currently working on the second book in the series.
A recovering multi-tasker, I’m equally at home in front of my Mac, on my yoga mat, walking my rescue dog, Phineas, traveling with a purpose, or practicing the high-art of people watching. I also cut up small bits of paper and put them back together as a collage artist.
My company:
I’m bringing together all of my business and creative career paths as the Founder of Double or Nothing Media:
• I craft products, programs, and projects that make a difference;
• I build the business plans that make what I craft financially sustainable;
• I tell the stories that matter about the people, places, and products that inspire me.
Follow my adventures on Twitter at https://twitter.com/christanyc and Instagram at https://instagram.com/christarosenyc.
View all posts by Christa Avampato
in, with a little water and sunshine and room to breathe. If you’ve found this to be true in your life, or your garden, I’d love to hear how it worked for you. 
Christa Avampato 
This is so true – Christa. I have a hard time putting this in practice (even just cleaning out stuff in my house to clear the space to create my space for new energy). But I try a little one day at a time…sometimes it’s even hard to recognize what those elements are, but I think having awareness is the first step!
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Hi Laura,
It is such a hard practice. I struggle with it, too. Old habits die hard, but if we keep working on new, healthier habits I think our lives turn out better.
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Christa:
Yeah, right: you sure can say that again.
In my case, however, the plant died on me because of my lousy singing voice.
Whenever I sing, I sound like Barbara Streisand on drugs.
The problem?
I don’t do drugs and I am a guy!
I tried watering the plant, but the plant told me to “get lost, buddy, and get yourself a life. Don’t hang around these parts.”
The plant sounded like John Wayne without a swagger and the pea-shooters.
I love plants, but they don’t respond to me positively.
A neighbor’s plant has started to dance for me, but that’s because she thinks I am Brad Pitt. I am only Tom Cruise.
Anyway, love your delicious sense of humor in this particular post. Keep up the good work and cheerio!
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Babs on drugs. Archan, your comment cracked me up. It is amazing how many moments for learning are all around us, even in potted plants!
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This makes perfect sense to me. Sometimes the pruning hurts but tis necessary …
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Hi Alexandra,
So true. I have founding the pruning particularly difficult and not without pain. But you’re right, a necessary act.
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Another way to put it is focus on less and do your best. That’s what actually happens with plants. Less leaves means more nutrients per leave which results in healthier plants. However here is a question. In some cases when flowers start to get old and not as alive then is when fruits start to grow inside. So how do you know holding an old flower won’t give you some fruits in the future?
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Bouncing off your blog again 🙂 http://scottfree2b.wordpress.com/2010/05/12/a-message-from-ficus-benjamina/
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That’s what’s it here for, Trish. Bounce any time! And thank you 🙂
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What a lovely analogy! As an aside, in Ireland, impatiens are called busy lizzie and are considered indoor plants. I couldn’t ever make one last as long as or grow as beautifully as my former mother-in-law, who constantly gave me new plants to kill.
I grew up, though, and managed to cultivate a green thumb. But still have trouble letting go of what doesn’t serve. Another lesson.
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Hi Lisa,
Thank you so much! That is so cool to know that story about impatiens. I had no idea. I love the busy lizzie nickname. Very appropriate for me!
I hopped over to you site. I love your blog Letters to Famous People. What a fab idea!
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The same philosophy holds for getting rid of accumulated stuff around the house – mementos, old clothes, books, etc. We hold onto things because of the memories associated with them, or because we’re saving it because we might need it in the future. But do that enough and you wind up with a house full of stuff that ends up just weighing you down. Remember when you could fit all your possessions in the back of a Volkwagen? Or in a backpack? And because you could you could go anywhere? At some point along the line, I stopped wanted to accumulate stuff and started wanting to get rid of it. Maybe it was after someone told me not to worry about not having everything I needed: trust that the universe will provide it for you, they said. So I do. That doesn’t mean my house is empty – I still live with people who like stuff. But I feel better about what I do or don’t have.
Michelle Rafter
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